When your baby dies...

I spent an hour or so just sorting through paperwork from the bookshelf tonight.

Bank statements

Phone bills

Tax reports

Receipts

Coroner's Reports

When your baby dies booklets...

This is it. My life.

When your baby dies.

I feel a sense of impending urgency sneaking up on me.

We've still got quite a while before we actually move anywhere but I have a sense that something big is going to surface or perhaps shift when we do.

Not a leaving her behind kind of feeling but a moving on feeling.

I know somewhere in me I'm going to feel emotional or sad that we are leaving her place.

I'm nervous about the emotions it will bring. I'm anxious about feeling lost again.

I've sensed her lately

Her love is breathtaking

Her soul is Earthy and pure Goddess

Bigger than I could ever imagine

The tears flow not out of sadness but out of aching love

She is mine

I am hers

Working through it...

In some ways you can rationalise death. You can process it, understand it and perhaps even be grateful for it. We're all different when it comes to these processes too. It could take years to get there. Sometimes we don't. We stay stuck in one place for a long long time. I feel like that right now. I think it has a lot to do with the stagnant emotional state of those around me. There's a lot of tip toeing and not talking or expressing of emotion. There's also a massive lack of understanding. I worry about me and me only. I have to. I learnt that the hard way.

I'm really struggling not so much to understand but to process? No that's not right either. Maybe I mean to say "find peace" or the like with the reality that I had a hysterectomy and it wasn't something I chose. It was done.

I'm really struggling to grasp that.
I can say it."I've had a hysterectomy." but it really doesn't go deep.
I don't let it.
I feel the knot in my stomach, the ill feeling that washes over me.
The tight chest.
The sting of tears brimming to the surface.
Then I just switch it off.
Change the subject, even in my own mind chatter.

I've read the medical notes, I heard the surgeons explanation but it isn't enough. There seems to be no closure to this. It's not something you just move through. Or is it?

I didn't feel like I was dying. That's trauma. It's sneaky.

Maybe it was his opinion
his attitude
his disgust with me as a mother
as a woman
my choices
Maybe that has made this harder to accept.

Oh his face right there behind my eyelids.
Always.
Maybe he made the best decision.
Maybe he didn't.
Maybe he was angry and in a stressful situation.
Maybe he acted too quickly.
Maybe he did the best for me.
He'll never tell me
I'll never know

I am hurt that it was taken from me and disposed of.
It was mine and it should have been given back to me.

I try to seek support but it's always the same.
Oh you're so lucky! No more menstruation.
No! I'm not lucky.
I honoured my bleed. I miss that.
I want to feel that again.
I want my womb to ache.
I feel nothing but aching scars.
A constant reminder of my failures.
My disgusting body.
My hatred for myself.

I don't want it to be this way. I want to create beauty out of my pain. I wish I knew how. I can't paint or draw it. It never comes.

I was thinking about asking friends for a bead to represent how they feel about their precious wombs and then I'll connect them all and make a necklace to hold me together. To share with them what it means for me. I don't know. I'm feeling a wee bit insane, even as I type this.

The womb-less woman.

I am the loving nurturing goddess mother

Inside I am the angry womb-less woman

I am warm and passionate

Inside I am dead, black, empty

Inside I am broken

I am tied in knots

I am womb-less woman

Bitter and Broken

Angry and Confused

She waits for weakness

She captures me

She lives in the darkness

The depths of my despair

I am the angry womb-less woman

Etched forever into my skin

Scar after scar

Disgust after disgust

Pain after pain

I don't know what this is. I need to create with this theme. I need to get it out...